A NotSoCinderella Tale
by kissfromaliss
Summary: Draco has been living in secrecy for five years since the war. No one knows he's alive, except for one person who gets him a little frisky at a Masquerade Ball. H/D


**A/N:**I've never done a one-shot before. This was originally made for a contest, so here it is on here now! :)

Inspired by Cinderella, obviously not the classic way to describe it but anyway...

**Disclaimer:**I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, or the world they dwell in. It all belongs to J.K Rowling. I do not make any money from this story.

**Warnings:**Minor Harry/Draco slash, Some spoilers I guess but not really, Brief mature sexual content. M/M

_Reviews are love! :D_

-xx-XX-xx-

_"Once upon a time, lived a handsome fellow named Atorilé who liked to buy things and make old Death Eaters into slaves._" Stupid arse. Leaving his random post-it notes all over the house. Just another thing to crumple up and throw away.

Rags and old used handy-me-down clothing were not his first choice in what he was now being forced to dress himself in. Draco Malfoy certainly did not want to wear anything like that. However, under the circumstances, it was either that or scrubbing floors in the nude.

Five years since the Hogwarts battle. Five years of more torturous hell for Draco. Almost worse than what he had gone through being under the Dark Lords presence, especially with choosing sides weighing heavily on his shoulders. He had made the wrong choice in the long run, and since that time he had grown used to the fact of now being treated like scum from everyone who hated Death Eaters.

The Malfoy name was no longer considered great, or powerful. Instead it was used for insults, or name ganders such as "Man, you look like a Malfoy covered in all that dirt!" or Draco's favorite, "You could almost be classified as a Malfoy dressed in all those rags!"

And there he was, living up to the saying. Toothbrush in hand, bucket full of soap suds next to him, Draco sat scrubbing the tiled floors of his old manor dressed in those ugly battered old clothes that house elves were forced to wear.

Draco never dreamed of these days back when he was wealthy. Back before Lucius and Narcissa were taken away to Azkaban, before his wealth and property was stripped away and sold to another wealthy family…

Before he was hated.

_He was still hated._

Hated by those who even knew he still even existed. The Daily Prophet had been stuffed with all sorts of strange, stupid rumors that Draco considered to be written by children. Which in some cases could have been considered by others too, judging by the stories the paper published. One in particular, was one that sent the entire British wizard world into a state of frenzy and _joy_. "_Son of Lucius Malfoy, ex-Death Eater, thought to be captured and killed by a gang of muggles outside of a local pub in Nottingham, England. Body has not yet been recovered._"

There was a little truth behind that story- Draco had been on the run at the time just two weeks after the battle, and he had started a quarrel with five young muggle boys who were poking fun at his expensive robes. Stupidly, Draco had pulled out his wand. Before he could react, the five muggles were furiously punching, kicking, scratching, all over him. It was degrading, but the memory was fading. Especially with this disgusting once-white now-brown toothbrush in hand. However, in all his terrible luck, he was still very much so alive and breathing.

"Malfoy! Those floors aren't going to clean themselves you know!"

Draco's thoughts left as his new master kicked his bucket over, spilling the murky soap water all over the floor, drenching his own clothing.

"Actually, there's quite a few simple cleaning spells if you could wrap your puny brain around them, filthy squib." Draco muttered to himself, eyeing the man as he walked away. Draco wasn't sure if he really was a squib, but he never actually got to see the 'wizard' use magic since he had claimed Malfoy Manor. Oh, sorry. _Atorilé_ Manor. The French bloke was a right prat according to Draco.

Luckily, the 'wizard' had offered Draco a place to stay, and complete solitude and protection from the press after the older Malfoys were taken to prison. There was a catch, of course. Draco was to play his personal 'house-elf' without any use of magic during day hours. Night time was fine, as magic was permitted for him to use on any personal matters. Draco detested the idea at first, leaving for a few days on his own to attempt to make it, but later coming back almost begging on his knees to stay after he had experienced his first rainstorm under a muddy bridge with spit-balling muggle school children.

At least here, no one knew he existed anymore. Here, he was invisible and didn't have anyone to submit to besides this bastard who treated him like nothing more than dirt. Here, he was dead to the world, but very much so alive. And it was comforting that way.

The sponge soaked up all the water after around forty squeezes and re-dips. Finally, the kitchen floor he had grown up with was now speck-free, and dazzling to look at. It had taken him a good three or so hours to do so, at least giving him time to himself rather than cooking a feast for forty, when only one would be dining. That chore was probably the worst.

His new bedroom, the old house-elf quarters, was small and shabby. He regretted the way he treated his old house-elves back when he had them. The bed was squeaky, and at first took some time to get used to but after four and a half years, it was nothing but home and comfort.

The odd time, Draco would find his mail laying on top his bed. Since no one knew he existed anymore, Atorilé dropped off extra papers or random flyers he picked up in his own mail, just to amuse the boy. Draco didn't mind, it gave him something to read once in a while. However, todays pick up was a little different then he normally would get.

"To Draco Malfoy,"

How strange, Draco thought. Does somebody know I live here still?

"We would like to formally invite you to our fifty-sixth Quinquennial LaRosa Ball down at the…"

He read no more. The ball that was held every five years at Parkinsons house. How could he forget! His best friend, his family's close friends, every five years attending some stupid masquerade party they'd throw just to impress a few other pureblood families. Surely Pansy had not found out he still lived here. Then again, she found out most things Draco never could during school years. But even so it was strange, why wouldn't Pansy have tried to contact him sooner, if she knew he was alive?

Draco sighed. His master would never allow him to attend a formal ball. Not that he wanted to, anyway. Nothing appeased to him less than outing his existence to a world he desperately wanted to hide from, at a _formal ball_.

He would have no one to go with, anyway.

Or nothing to wear.

Perhaps he could borrow something?

Or maybe have his house-elves find-

Oh, right…

Draco shook the unworthy thoughts from his head. He forced himself to think of other things, such as cleaning the fridges out tomorrow or watering the gardens in the morning. You know, normal stuff like that.

It wasn't until the old french git appeared at his bedroom door only a minute later with his ear bleeding heavy french accent twirling to and fro.

"I'm going to allow you to go to this ball, h'okay?"

Draco's jaw could have hit the floor if it dropped any lower.

"W-what?"

"You heard me Malfoy," The tall man said is a friendly way, ducking under the frame to get a closer look at Draco who seemed barely visible due to no light being in the room. "I want you to get out of the house for a while, gives me time to ah.. invite some guests over for a party!"

Ah. Made sense. Every couple of weeks, Atorilé would invite some of his old friends over for games of who-knows-what with drinks of whatever was left in the cupboard. Draco nodded slowly, shifting his feet around on the dirty floor.

"Thank you, sir, but I would have nothing to wear! And I couldn't dare show my face in public anyway."

Atorilé nodded, briefly stepping out of the room and returning with a long plastic-covered black shirt and pants, with a black feathered mask on top. "Eet is a masquerade engagement party, correct?"

Draco nodded, then suddenly looking up, confusion swimming in his eyes. "Hold on, engagement?"

* * *

><p>Yes. Engagement. And that is what the vintage-like poster said on the double-door entrance to the Parkinson Mansion said. "P &amp; H Engagement party. Celebrating the Fifty-sixth Parkinson Quinquennial LaRosa Ball, with a twist!"<p>

And twisted it was. Draco had cleaned himself up rather well, and he found himself rather strikingly handsome as he admired his reflection in the mirror. His blonde hair was a mess still, but in a rather delicately placed way. His silvery eyes, hidden behind a light black mask hiding only his eyes and forehead with peacock feathers tinted green and silver at the tips. His wrinkle-free black button dress shirt was tucked into his matching black pants and freshly shined shoes. He hadn't felt so good in black, since he used to be so awkwardly pale back in the days. Now, Draco had fully grown into himself and with muscles to match, he had a nice tan from working so hard in the garden all day long. Or perhaps that's just what the mirror was showing him, raising his old ego just an inch higher.

As the doors opened, he noticed several men dressed as he did. None of them looked quite as handsome as he (As Draco put it), but most men were wearing similar outfits and masks, whereas the woman were dressed in all sorts of strange looking attire. He didn't need to pretend to not notice. He didn't much care for the ball at all, he was only interested in seeking out Pansy and forcing her to explain why she had invited him even though the entire world thought he was dead. This was all some sort of strange coincidence- or so he forced himself to believe.

Draco made his way through the large crowd, up the grand staircase and through towards the main ball room. It was large, and decorated for the 1400's era. Gold, white, pearls, silver, peach, everything antique and girlish. That was _so not Pansy_ was all he could think, staring down the odd scene before him. The roof was so high, he could barely make out the floral painting on it. The room was larger than he remembered as well, then again he was so small last time he'd been here he probably wouldn't have noticed.

Dressed in a green peacock type dress and mask, there Pansy stood in the center talking and clinking glasses with another couple. Her new fiancé or so Draco assumed, was standing by her side but not paying much attention to the pointless conversation about drapery they were discussing. Draco narrowed his eyes, trying to pinpoint exactly who it was before he made his way over there.

"Pansy, a word if you please." Draco gently placed a hand on her shoulder. The people around stared at him for a second, causing a large lump to form in his throat. He silently prayed no one knew who he was, hoping the mask would shield his shameful identity. Alas, everyone turned away to their busy conversations and Pansy followed him out into the less crowded hallway.

"My apologies, but with all these masks it's hard to identify who I am speaking to!" Pansy said, slipping off her own heavily decorated green and colored mask. Draco kept his own on, pulling her aside to the corner on the hallway where no one could see them.

"Bloody hell Pansy, you'd think you'd be able to figure out who your old best friend is by the color of his hair." Draco whispered, looking around to make sure no one could hear. His voice was muffled when Pansy threw her arms around him, and squeezed him tightly.

"Draco! Draco, my darling! Oh how wonderful it is that you're here!" She pulled back, keeping her squeezing fingers on Draco's shoulders. "I thought you were dead! Oh, I have so much to tell you! But first,"

And with that, Draco felt a stinging sensation on his cheek. He had barely had a chance to dodge before Pansy's hands slapped him across the face.

"How dare you Draco Malfoy! We were BEST friends, and not one word, not a SINGLE word that you're even alive, and and.. Oh! Merlin! You arse!" Pansy kept going on, but Draco wasn't listening. He turned around to see the man who was by her side only moments ago, seeking her out. He was wearing a white button up shirt tucked into black dress pants, with a matching green mask hanging carelessly around his neck. His hair had been what sparked Draco's memory of who he was. That hair, that seemingly familiar burning black hair. And the most striking green eyes…

"Oh, Harry dear over here! You must see who we have-" Draco smacked a hand across Pansy's mouth before she could reply.

"Don't you dare Pansy! I'm supposed to be dead, and I'd like to keep it that way if you please!" Draco hissed, removing his hand and facing towards the man he still felt himself despising. How embarrassing it would be if her fiancé recognized him.

Thankfully, Draco figured he didn't. Or so it seemed.

"Pansy, what are you doing out here? Who is this? There's a couple people inside wanting to congratulate us on our engagement. Ah, I guess that's what everyone here wants anyway. Er, hello. I'm H-" He said, holding out his hand to welcome Draco. Draco swallowed. The way the familiar boy stared at him, as if trying to figure out who he was behind the feathered mask. Thinking quickly, Draco grabbed his outstretched hand warmly.

"Harry Potter, of course I know who you are. The name's.. Strider. Just, Strider." Draco said, dropping their handshake and turning back to Pansy. What on earth made him think of Strider! What a silly name. "We'll talk more later." Draco mouthed, before stepping away from the odd couple. He could not believe that Pansy would _ever_ go after someone like Harry freaking Potter. Out of everyone in the world, it just HAD to be him. It was all too mind blowing.

Draco stepped back into the ballroom, wanting to take advantage of his rare night out as best as he could. With a quick glance up at the clock that read "8:43pm", he sighed thankfully and went out to the dance floor. The lights were dimmed, and couples were dancing to a rather fast foot-tapping beat. He had until midnight tonight, until his master expected him to be home to clean up after the so called 'party', and Potter would certainly not be the reason he left the ball early.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Draco turned to face a very pretty smaller girl with hair as blonde as his own. Her dressed was a light blush pink with a delicate white and pink feather mask to match. She gestured him out, and Draco gratefully accepted as they began to dance to a slow song which came on next. He let his hand rest just above her hips, but apparently that was not good enough for the girl. Her smile was quirky and playful as she let her own hands slide down Draco's chest onto his stomach. Draco grinned, pressed his luck and pulled her close letting their bodies sway to the sound of music. They stayed like that for a while, heads slowly coming closer together. He had not intended for this sort of dance, but it was fine while it lasted. Until yet another hand tapped at his shoulder. The girl annoyingly glanced over but her face brightened when she nodded and stepped away. Draco sighed and turned to face his new dance partner, only to find himself standing face to face with Harry Potter.

They didn't dance (not that they ever would), instead Harry had taken Draco's wrist and led him to one of the empty circle dining tables as the edge of the room. Other people were sitting, chatting away at other tables but paid no attention to the two men who just arrived. Draco still refused to remove his mask, as every other sitting person had done to get more comfortable. Even Harry did so, after raising his hand to one of the bartenders.

"Two tall firewhiskeys on ice, please." Harry muttered, waving him off. Draco couldn't help but admire the way Harry acted like a rich person, when he was only inheriting his best friend's money. It suited him well. It sort of made him, well, attractive.

"I know who you are." Harry said calmly, slipping in the chair beside Draco. Cautiously, Draco used his feet to push his chair just a little further away from Harry without him noticing. He didn't doubt Harry knew who he was; in fact he had expected it when they shook hands previously.

"I figured you would, Potter."

Harry grinned, not acknowledging the waiter as he placed the duel drinks in front of the two rivals.

"I can't help but wonder why you'd come to my engagement party, seeing as how the world thinks you've somehow fallen off the earth."

"I didn't know it was for you until I arrived, thank you very much." Draco took a sip of his own drink, letting it sit for a moment on his tongue before swallowing. It had been a _long_ time since he swallowed firewhiskey.

"I figured as much. You probably stopped reading the card halfway through, or you would have known." Harry took a sip of his own. "What brings you here then?"

Draco pondered that for a moment. He couldn't give away his real life by simply saying, '_Oh, I wanted to get a break from scrubbing kitchen floors with toothbrushes so I figured I'd come to see my biggest enemy and my best friend get together after all these years_.' So instead he settled with, "Nothing better to do. Besides, I was invited so why not?"

"That's so like you, _Strider_." Harry grinned as the name rolled off his tongue. "The name suits you well, you know."

"So like me? You sound as if you think you know me."

"Oh, I know more than you think." His voice was muffled with he took yet another large gulp from his drink.

"You know what doesn't suit well?" Draco changed the conversation back to normal quickly. Being an Auror, Draco guessed Harry really did know more about him than Draco ought to hope for.

"What's that?"

"Pansy and Harry. I don't get it, and quite frankly it makes no sense. What did I miss?"

Harry laughed. Draco felt a little better after seeing Harry lighten up.

"You've missed a lot. Since you… departed," Nice choice. "After the war, there kind of were no enemies anymore. Everyone sort of, well, became friendly with one another. All except any Death Eaters of course. Especially…"

Draco was glad Harry hadn't finished his sentence, or he may have had to clock him in the nose right there with everyone watching. It was bad enough he was sitting having friendly conversation with Potter, but if he dared to insult his family to his face, then things would get ugly. Fortunately, he didn't.

"Obviously some a little more friendly than others." Draco muttered loud enough for Harry to hear.

"All too true. I guess I could tell you who Hermione chose over Ron, but I'm sure you'd faint at even the idea."

Draco snorted. He never would have imagined that bookworm to fall for another other than the weasel himself. "You've got to tell me now, no cliffhangers."

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"It's not that I want to know, I could care less really. But you make it sound like the guy has a great deal of importance to me, so yes, I wouldn't mind knowing."

Harry rolled his eyes. "She's married to Zabini."

Draco had to avoid spitting out his firewhiskey everywhere. "BLAISE! My poor Blaise, married to a muggleborn! I have missed a lot. Truly, the world is ending."

They both laughed at that point. And from then, their conversation was mainly about catching up about old friends and teachers from Hogwarts. Half an hour later, Draco glanced up at the clock again before letting out a heavy sigh. Their drinks had been replenished three times, and they both had their fill of alcohol, even though another glass was on the way.

"I didn't know that, I figured every Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher changed every year." Draco bellowed.

"True." Harry said, glancing over to make sure Pansy was still giggling away with her former Slytherin friends. Draco took a finger and itched around his eye. This mask was horribly annoying, and made Draco more uncomfortable by each passing minute.

Apparently, Harry had noticed Draco's odd scratch and made an attempt to help. "Let's say we go outside for a few minutes, shall we? It can give you a chance to take off that mask for at least a little while where no one can see."

Draco agreed almost instantly. Perhaps it might have been the alcohol acting, but Draco was looking forward to a little peace after all the loud bickering and music happening inside. And he was glad to have someone he could show his face too. Someone who knew he existed. Even if it was Potter.

* * *

><p>Outside was beautiful. The gardens were heavy and lush, and just as glorious as he remembered. When he and Pansy were younger, they'd spend a countless amount of hours outdoors, wandering and playing in the gardens. There were rows of all sorts of worldly flowers, and strange bushes.<p>

He and Harry were standing on a porch, just hanging above a patch of snapping tiger lilies. The glass doors were see-through, but he faced the outside with his arms on the railing and mask dangling freely from his neck so no one inside could see his face. Draco couldn't help but notice the way the outdoors seemed to completely relax Harry. He noticed the way the black haired boy stood so calm, and smiled to himself obviously not realizing he was doing so. Draco snapped back to reality when the door behind them opened and his heart stopped for a mere second, until he noticed Pansy walking out shivering into her fur coat.

"Harry dear, mind giving us a minute or two?" Pansy asked. Harry nodded, and gave a swift glance at Draco before leaving back inside to the party.

"It's been five years Draco." Pansy mumbled, coming to a halt just in front of him.

"I've noticed." Draco swiftly turned his gaze back to the gardens, with Pansy coming to a stand beside him. A few moments of silence passed before she spoke again.

"You know, me and Harry aren't really in love."

Draco snorted sarcastically. "No, really? I never would have guessed."

"Ta, Draco." She retorted, gently smacking his shoulder. "I mean, I'm completely head over flipping heels for him. And honestly," She continued, hastily ignoring Draco's pretend gaging. "I understand how it may sound. Growing up, and how we used to hate him, but… As you can guess, everything changed after the war. Harry was there for us, everyone, I mean. There was some kind of bond that was made between everyone that night. We all thought he died for us, yet he died and came back to life and saved us all. He did it for everyone. The world."

Draco rolled his eyes. He was sick of hearing how much of a bloody hero Potter was. Would it never end? Even after five years!

"It's just that, I love him Draco. I love him more than anyone could ever know. We bumped into each other at Diagon Alley, he was with Ginny and well, I kind of fell over and almost knocked myself out and he was there for me. And those kinds of things happened for three years, and I guess he told me he fell in love with me sometime after I fell for him when we first met again all those years ago. Though I can't help but think his words are empty."

"And why's that?" Draco asked, suddenly feeling a pang of pity for his old friend.

"I don't know. There's always been something different with that boy, you know how it is. You know, it's silly…" Pansy looked away and fiddled her thumbs.

Draco blinked questioningly. "What is?"

"Everyone thought he was gay back at Hogwarts. You know, with him being so obsessed with you in sixth year and all."

Draco could have fallen off the porch in laughter if there was no railing holding him back. He bit his tongue, trying to hold off the disgust he felt at that.

"Don't be ridiculous Pansy."

"Draco, why did you come here tonight?" Pansy placed a hand on Draco's. He glanced at it, before looking back up at her.

"There's a number of reasons, actually."

"Are you in love with Harry? Is that why you disappeared?"

Draco stepped back. "Are you_ kidding_? Is that why you think I'm here?"

"Draco hun, don't get upset. I wouldn't blame you, I.. I actually would be kind of relieved if you were."

"Relieved? Do you honestly hear what you're saying?" Draco stammered quite loudly.

"I mean, no one invited you considering we all thought you were _dead_ but if you've come to take Harry, please do! I love him but-"

Draco stopped her, suddenly becoming quite confused. "What do you mean no one invited me? Pansy, I got the invite lying on my bed only yesterday. Don't be so daft, I know you did. Is this your plan?"

"Draco, I _didn't_-" She stopped as the screen door opened again and Harry stood there with a half filled glass of red wine in his hand.

"It's been a minute or two, should I give you more time?" He stepped back but Pansy walked over and placed a hand on Harrys shoulder.

"No, I think we're finished." Pansy leaned over, kissing Harry on the cheek. Draco didn't know why she would do that in front of him considering their conversation, but he quickly understood once he noticed Harry pull back slightly. Pansy cast Draco one last pleading look before disappearing inside, closing the blinds behind them.

"I'd have brought you back some wine but you.. looked… What's wrong?" Harry asked, Draco becoming aware of the angry face he was holding.

"_You_ sent me that invite, tell me Potter. Why? And how did you know I was alive? You work for the ministry, and everyone there believes me to be good as dead."

Harry nodded slowly, gulping down all his wine in a few seconds. "I'm a trained Auror, Malfoy. Don't forget."

Draco studied him for a second. He wasn't too sure what really was going on, but perhaps he could later blame it on all the firewhiskey that was lingering in his system. "So don't tell me you've been attempting to stalk me again, have you?"

Harry looked startled. "N-no! I never stalked you before anyway! Bloody hell, they didn't find a body and they were teenage muggles for Christ sake. That story is flashing fake, it couldn't fool anyone."

"Except the rest of the world." Draco muttered, fixing his attention to the sky. "Still leaves my other question unanswered."

"And besides," Harry continued, acting as if he hadn't even heard Draco when in fact he had. "It doesn't-"

"No, don't change the subject. You heard me, why did you invite me?"

Harry let out a long heavy sigh. "Everyone deserves a break from slavery."

Draco held back a gasp. How would Harry have known? And how much did he really know? "How long have you known?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"Four and a half years."

Great, since the day it all started. "And.. how long have you been an Auror?" Draco asked, not exactly wanting to hear it.

"Two years."

"So, basically, you've been stalking me again." Draco glanced sideways at Harry, who seemed to stifle a smile.

"No, I haven't been _stalking_ you Malfoy. I'm nosy, that's all."

Draco chuckled briefly. He breathed out, watching the cold air before him turn his breath into a light mist. "That's actually kind of comforting, believe it or not."

Harry cast Draco a quick glance. They caught eyes, and held their gaze a moment too long before they both looked away awkwardly.

"How so?"

Draco shrugged. "Makes me feel like someone cares about my existence."

"I'm sure if you outed yourself, you'd find more people cared then you'd think."

iRight back at you./i Draco thought, then looking at Harry who seemed to have gone pale.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, seeming astounded. Draco gasped, slapping his hand over his mouth. He had said that allowed, without meaning to.

"I, er.. Sorry, I didn't mean to er, say that out loud. Ah…" Draco watched Harrys face turn pale to a fiery blush. He couldn't help but feel slightly amused.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Harry said frowning, averting his stare elsewhere.

"What? That you're gay?" _What is WRONG with you Draco Malfoy_! He barked to himself, not knowing why the words were just spilling out of him like wind.

"WHAT! I am not! I love Pansy, and she's a girl if you haven't noticed." Harry breathed angrily.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You don't love Pansy. I barely know you, but I know you well enough to know she'd never really be your type. No matter how much has changed, she's a Slytherin at heart and you're still a Gryffindor."

"And what's that supposed to mean? You make Gryffindor sounds like an insult."

"In my eyes, it is." Draco said, chuckling a little bit.

"And who's to say a Gryffindor can't be in love with a Slytherin?" Draco, however, knew the real words behind what Harry just said. He had heard the stories, from his own father.

"They can. Pansy has obviously lost her mind for you, but you'd never fall for one of us."

"I did once before, and I did it again. Not everything has to be written in stone." Harry mumbled.

"Once before?" Draco asked, suddenly becoming interested in this conversation. "Who was the once before?"

"Er…" Harry was caught off guard. "I, um.. doesn't matter, does it?"

"It does now." Draco gleamed. He _wanted_ Harry to say it. He _wanted_ to hear his own name slip from Harrys mouth. And he had absolutely no idea why.

"Forget it. Forget I invited you here. I have a _fiancée_ to go back to, who I am _in love_with."

* * *

><p>Draco regretted stomping out early. The conversation with Pansy had completely flustered his mind and it was going in all sorts of directions now. On one hand, Draco was completely oblivious to the messages both Pansy and Harry were sending him. He forced himself to think of how stupid Potter was, how obnoxiously arrogant he was. <em>Just a dumb old Gryffindor brat.<em>

One the other side…

Draco couldn't help but recall on how hot his face felt when he blushed around Harry which had happened quite frequently. He remembered how his heart would beat faster, though he had always blamed it on how much they hated each other. It couldn't possibly be the other way around- being in love with a bloke was far out of Malfoy territory.

The manor was completely empty when Draco tumbled in- literally. He fell face first onto the cold hardwood floor, practically knocking everything over in his path. He groaned as the sudden pain hit him hard. For a split second after hitting the floor he hoped the one too many firewhiskeys would block out the pain. Unfortunately, it didn't.

Draco looked up, his vision slightly blurred. Two of everything formed up, then four, then six, then back to normal. There was shattered glass from the coat rack he managed to pull down with him. It must have hit the mirror on the wall on its way down. _Fantastic, more stuff to clean up before Frenchy gets home-_

"Oh my god! Are you okay?"

Draco's heart stopped. Someone was standing at the wide open door, but he couldn't tell who it was. _Please don't be Atorilé, please don't be Atorilé, for Merlins sake don't be Atorilé!_ Yet, there was no heavy annoying French accent on that tongue. Draco cautiously stood up, but immediately fell again to a splitting pain in his head.

"Here, let me help you up. We've got to get you cleaned up, the glass cut up your hands pretty badly."

Draco opened his eyes to see a body hunched over him. Hands gripped around his shoulders, pulling him up to a stand. Draco leaned against the warm body before realizing who was helping him up.

"Gah, bloody hell Potter, what are you doing here?" Draco wriggled himself free out of Harrys grasp and leaned against the wall. Stinging sensations warmed his hands, and Draco noticed that blood was dripping from several small cuts on his palms.

"I wanted to apologize, so I came to find you but you were already gone." Harry stared at Dracos hand and grabbed them to take a better look.

Draco attempted a quick tug to retrieve his hands, but Harry held tightly. "So you followed me home, eh?"

"Not one of my better ideas, I assure you. Hold still already you great lump." Harry reached for his wand and pointed it at Dracos hands.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, watching as Harry muttered a spell. He watched as the shards of glass dissolved into air in his hands, and the blood disappeared. The painful cuts remained open but not bleeding.

"Go put some bandages on those. They'll heal up in no time." Slipping the wand back under his shirt, Harry turned towards the door to leave.

"Potter," Draco called for him to stop, but Harry was already out the door. "You can't fool me!"

Harry turned around, and Draco smirked deviously. "You came here to tell me something, did you not?"

A chuckle escaped Harry. "I did, but I think it would be best if we just carry on with our lives, as we have done before."

"Oh come on, Potter," Draco was not about to give up this easily. "You can't just tell me you followed me home in attempt to stop my hand from bleeding a little bit?"

"You're completely plastered, as am I. Well, I'm sobered up a little bit now but as far as I can see, you're not. And I hadn't expected that. I might decide to come back another day, just don't get your hopes up."

Draco frowned. It was true, the effects of alcohol still burned his mind but that didn't stop him from knowing exactly what was going on. "What if I bribed you to stay?"

That sparked Harry's interest. "You mean you want me to stay, do you?"

Draco grinned again. "Well I wouldn't say no to having company while I fall asleep."

Harrys face was priceless, and Draco wished he had have teased Harry sooner. The slightly blushed skin was now completely flushed red, and it tickled Draco to think of how far he could push it.

"I, er.. I better get going. Pansy will be wanting me back-"

"Actually, Pansy would probably be relieved to find that you spent the rest of your night with me." Draco said, knowing it was true.

Harry stepped forward, still unsure about it. "I suppose… I could stay for a few more minutes to make sure you're alright."

_I win, as always._ Draco thought, stepping aside to let Harry enter his house.

* * *

><p>They sat in the large comfortable library with the fireplace lit. Their conversation dragged from all sorts of topics, starting with the massive amount of books to why Draco still hid himself from the public.<p>

"I suppose I like being hidden." Draco said, sipping his second glass of wine. Draco had slipped a sobering potion in the first glasses he poured for himself and Harry, causing all traces of previous alcohol to disappear in the two. Harry hadn't taken any notice, and Draco continued to pretend he was still a little drunk. Even though he was as sober as a bat.

"But why? If you actually let yourself out as being alive, you'd have your manor back. And you wouldn't have to work as a slave-"

"I'm not a slave, Potter. I just.. it's my way of giving back to someone who takes care of me."

"Ha!" Harry said, setting his glass down on the side table. "Since when does Draco Malfoy give back to anyone?"

Draco took minor offense to that. He wasn't a complete jerk, he figured Harry just didn't know him as well as the hero would like to think. He stood up, swirling the red liquid around in his glass as he stood in front of the warm fire. "I'll have you know, I can be a very giving person."

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco glanced at him sideways, and saw Harry get up and stand beside him facing the fire.

"Is that so?" Harrys voice was teasing, and that was enough to let Draco know that he was flirting.

Draco stepped backwards to gently place his wine glass beside Harrys, careful not to make a sound. "Yes, infact…" He took a step back towards the fire, but stopped right as he came up very close to Harry's back. He leaned in, putting his mouth near Harry's ear. "I'd like to give a little thanks to you, for having your company."

Draco chuckled as Harry jumped in surprise, and spun around to face him. Draco felt strange being this close to his old rival, but nonetheless he found it quite amusing.

"W-what do you mean?" Harry asked, searching Dracos eyes for answers.

Draco raised his eyebrows as he lowered his gaze to Harrys lips, which were slightly parted. Waiting, begging for Malfoy to lean in and take him right then and there.

Instead, he stepped sideways and turned his gaze to the fire. "Not what you're thinking, I can assure you that."

He could hardly hold back a laugh when he saw Harry frown from the corner of his eyes.

"Actually, tomorrow, I'd like you to join me in outing myself alive. To the world."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked, standing beside Draco in an old unseen alleyway near Diagon Alley.<p>

"No, I think it's a horrible mistake. But I'm tired of that old prune ordering me around like a stinking house elf!"

Harry chuckled. "Best get on with it then. And thank you, Malfoy."

Draco blinked. "For what?"

"For letting me be the one standing beside you on this. I know it must be hard, but I feel honored."

Those words tasted like bittersweet glory to Draco. Nothing felt better than to have Potter himself actually thanking Draco for his company. Nevertheless, it felt nice sharing this moment with the savior. Only two days ago Draco would have called anyone a mad bugger to even suggest the idea of it. But something changed, rather everything did in Draco's mind. Harry was no longer the detesting young boy he had teased and nearly destroyed back in their days of schooling. Now he was handsome, grown up, and a lot more respectable then Draco would ever have imagined.

"You'll have to find some way to repay me, Potter." He smirked when Harry did as well, knowing full-well that Draco was only joking. "It should really be me thanking you. You knew I was alive, and you cared enough to help me through it."

"Gee I haven't blushed this much in ages."

Both of them continued to kid and laugh as soon as they reached the bricks. They'd be flooing directly into the ministry, as Harry had gone as far to organize the Daily Prophet press to gather in the main hall for when they arrived. None of them knew why, Harry had only mentioned it would be worth telling the world, turning one of the biggest scandals in history backwards.

"Ready?" Harry asked, outstretching his hand edging Draco to take it. Which he did, instantly.

No, Draco wasn't ready. Not yet. He had one last bit of business to attend to before the world knew of his existence. "Not quite."

He tugged on Harrys hand, bringing him closer until their chests were touching. He could feel the rapid pulse of Harry's heart against his own, becoming faster and faster when Draco reached up with his hands to Harry's neck.

"M-malfoy! What are you doing?" Harry managed to say.

Draco grinned. "Just shut up and kiss me, Potter."

And so he did. Draco had to step backwards when Harry took the opportunity ever so daringly, mashing their lips together. He took another step backwards, and another until Harry had pushed him up against the rough brick wall.

Draco kissed back a little more forcibly, prodding Harrys mouth for entrance with his tongue. It felt so good, so new to him. He'd never kissed a bloke before, and would have never been caught dead with Potter years ago. Now it was different, thrilling and _exciting_.

The cold hands that belonged to Harry were inside of Draco's shirt now, pushing against his ribs. Draco managed to smile between kissing, squeezing his hands tighter on Harry's neck.

"Wanted… for.. so… long.." Harry said breathlessly, sticking his tongue back into Draco's mouth. He could have melted right there.

"Shhh." Draco moved his mouth down on Harry's chin, towards his neck, biting gently down when he felt Harrys hands fumbling the top buttons of Draco's shirt, but pausing when he tensed up. Draco let him know it was okay by going at Harry's own shirt, lifting it over his head before it went tumbling down onto the dirty gravel.

"Are you sure about this?" Harry whispered breathlessly.

"Mmm, completely." Draco licked his lips, before grabbing hold of Harry's shoulders and twirling them around so Draco could have a little more control. Now Harry was against the wall, with his glasses hanging crookedly off his face and hair all messed up, shirt nowhere to be seen. Otherwise known as looking terribly sexy.

Draco attached their lips once again, and let his arms roam to Harrys hair, running his fingers through it. It felt amazing, like running his fingers through silk. Harry's hands were now at Draco's waist. Draco moaned as Harry rolled his hips forward, pressing their groins together.

"Oh god," Draco whimpered, gently biting Harry's lower lip. "Again." It felt so good, Draco could barely stand it. Harry was making sounds as they rocked against each other that he had never heard before. The kisses stopped, but began soon again with Harry's mouth locked onto Draco's neck this time.

It wasn't long until both boys were left panting, out of breath on the ground. Luckily no one had come into the alley during their grope session.

"Are you ready now?" Harry asked.

"As long as you're by my side, I'll be ready for anything."

* * *

><p>"Draco darling, you do look smashing."<p>

"Hmm, I'm not sure. I'm used to potato sacks and old socks for my casual wear, but this'll have to do."

Draco was standing in a formal robe store in London. It had been nearly three weeks since Draco Malfoy was now alive. He had been able to snatch back his manor, all of his family's wealth, and even the old house elves who had run away. Of course now that Draco had gone through four and a half years of that torture, he had to promise to treat them a little better than he had before.

And now here he was, getting ready to attend a formal Art Show that Harry had invited him to. Their relationship, you can say, stayed the same for the past few weeks. The Daily Prophet had sure gotten a big buzz from it all, with articles like 'Lion and Snake: Former Foes, or Secret Lovers?' was probably his favorite. It was written by no one other than Rita Skeeter who had added a few not-so-real facts about how Harry had been secretly seeing Draco for the past years, keeping the Malfoy boy all to his lustful little self. What a witch she was, indeed.

"Draco?"

"Oh, sorry love." Draco said, hopping down off the small platform that allowed him to look at himself from many angles.

"It's alright. I am so glad you invited me to come along with you! It's been so long since we've just hung out, you and I."

Draco smiled and leaned down to kiss his friends cheek. "Pansy, you'd be the only one I'd ever invite to come shopping with me. Who else would I want to bring? I know of no one with such expertise."

Pansy smirked. "Oh, I don't know, perhaps my ex-husband?"

"Oh get over it. You brought this on yourself. Besides, Atorilé is a much better choice for you anyway." Draco scoffed, turning his head backwards to make sure his arse looked pleasant enough in the black slacks they'd picked out.

And yes, it was true. Pansy had basically thrown herself at Atorilé when they met. He wasn't such a miserable man when he at least had a woman to drape himself on. He glanced up in the mirror again to see a familiar face.

"I don't know, I think Pansy could do much better. We made a pretty good couple, while we lasted." Harry said, setting down an armful of shopping bags before slinging an arm over his ex-lover.

"Of but of course Harry love." Pansy said, smiling. "You two are much better together though."

"I agree." Draco said, straightening his tie. "Well?"

"Handsome as ever, Draco." Harry gleamed like a child.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I want a real opinion Potter. Not one a Gryffindor boy would say to his girlfriend when she asks about her new jeans."

"Touchy today are we?" Harry asked, coming up behind Draco. He slid his arms around his waist when Draco turned to face him.

"I don't need you constantly groping me in public. Honestly, it's quite embarrassing."

"There's no one else here," Harry pointed out. Draco desperately looked around the room, but it was right. Even the shop owner had gone missing. "Besides I know you enjoy it."

"About as much as you enjoy being a prat."

"A sexy prat though, right?" Harry said, resting his forehead against Draco's.

"Well, that too."

Pansy rolled her eyes, and turned away to give the two boys a bit of privacy while they exercised their tongues.

And they lived happily, ever after. Or so Harry liked to put it, anyway.


End file.
